his way to the third-class compartment to acquaint his
fellow-traveller with the extent of the disaster Abbleway hurriedly
pondered the question of the woman's nationality. He had acquired a
smattering of Slavonic tongues during his residence in Vienna, and felt
competent to grapple with several racial possibilities.

"If she is Croat or Serb or Bosniak I shall be able to make her
understand," he promised himself. "If she is Magyar, heaven help me! We
shall have to converse entirely by signs."

He entered the carriage and made his momentous announcement in the best
approach to Croat speech that he could achieve.

"The train has broken away and left us!"

The woman shook her head with a movement that might be intended to convey
resignation to the will of heaven, but probably meant noncomprehension.
Abbleway repeated his information with variations of Slavonic tongues and
generous displays of pantomime.

"Ah," said the woman at last in German dialect, "the train has gone? We
are left. Ah, so."

She seemed about as much interested as though Abbleway had told her the
result of the municipal elections in Amsterdam.

"They will find out at some station, and when the line is clear of snow
they will send an engine. It happens that way sometimes."

"We may be here all night!" exclaimed Abbleway.

The woman nodded as though she thought it possible.

"Are there wolves in these parts?" asked Abbleway hurriedly.

"Many," said the woman; "just outside this forest my aunt was devoured
three years ago, as she was coming home from market. The horse and a
young pig that was in the cart were eaten too. The horse was a very old
one, but it was a beautiful young pig, oh, so fat. I cried when I heard
that it was taken. They spare nothing."

"They may attack us here," said Abbleway tremulously; "they could easily
break in, these carriages are like matchwood. We may both be devoured."

"You, perhaps," said the woman calmly; "not me."

"Why not you?" demanded Abbleway.

"It is the day of Saint Maria Kleopha, my name-day. She would not allow
me to be eaten by wolves on her day. Such a thing could not be thought
of. You, yes, but not me."

Abbleway changed the subject.

"It is only afternoon now; if we are to be left here till morning we
shall be starving."

"I have here some good eatables," said the woman tranquilly; "on my
festival day it is natural that I should have provision with me. I have
five good bloo